About Dirtiest Secret
From the New York Times bestselling author of such “racy, sizzling Stark
novels” (RT Book Reviews) as Release Me
and Say My Name comes the provocative
first Stark International Novel—the beginning of the S.I.N. series.
It was wrong for us to be together, but it was even
harder to be apart.
The memory of Dallas Sykes burns inside of
me.
Everyone knows him as a notorious playboy,
a man for whom women and money are no object. But to me, he’s still the one man
I desperately crave—yet the one I can never have.
Dallas knows me better than anyone else. We
bear the same scars, the same darkness in our past. I thought I could move on
by staying away, but now that we’re drawn together once more, I can’t fight the
force of our attraction or the temptation to make him mine.
We’ve tried to maintain control, not
letting ourselves give in to desire. And for so long we’ve told ourselves
no—but now it’s finally time to say yes.
Dirtiest
Secret is intended for mature audiences.
Amazon US ** Amazon US Print ** Audible ** iBooks ** B&N/Nook
Excerpt
Even by Southampton standards, the party
at the nine-thousand-square-foot mansion on Meadow Lane reeked of extravagance.
Grammy Award–winning
artists performed on an outdoor stage that had been set up on the lush lawn
that flowed from the main house to the tennis courts. Celebrities hobnobbed
with models who flirted with Wall Street tycoons who discussed stock prices
with tech gurus and old-money academics, all while sampling fine scotch and the
season’s chicest gin. Colored lights illuminated the grotto style pool, upon
which nude models floated lazily on air mattresses, their bodies used by
artisan sushi chefs as presentation platters for epicurean delights.
Each
female guest received a Hermès Birkin bag and each male received a limited
edition Hublot watch, and the exclamations of delight—from both the men and the
women—rivaled the boom of the fireworks that exploded over Shinnecock Bay at
precisely ten p.m., perfectly
timed to distract the guests from the bustle of the staff switching out the
dinner buffet for the spread of desserts, coffee, and liqueurs.
No
expense had been spared, no desire or craving or indulgence overlooked. Nothing
had been left to chance, and every person in attendance agreed that the party
was the Must Attend event of the season, if not of the year. Hell, if not of
the decade.
Everyone
who was anyone was there, under the stars on the four acre lot on Billionaires’
Row.
Everyone,
that is, except the billionaire who was actually hosting the party. And speculation
as to where he was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with ripped
through the well-liquored and gossip-hungry crowd like wildfire in a windstorm.
“No idea
where he could have disappeared off to, but I’d bet good money he’s not pining
away in solitude,” said a reed-thin man with salt-and-pepper hair and an
expression that suggested disapproval but was most likely envy.
“I swear
I came five times,” a perky blonde announced to her best friend in the kind of
stage whisper designed to attract attention. “The man’s a master in bed.”
“He’s
got a shrewd head for business, that one,” said a Wall Street trader, “but no
sense of propriety where his cock is concerned.”
“Oh,
honey, no. He’s not relationship material.” A brunette celebrating a recently
inked modeling contract shivered as if reliving a moment of ecstasy. “He’s like
fine chocolate. Meant to be savored in very limited quantities. But so damn
good when you have it.”
“More
power to him if he can grab that much pussy.” A hipster with beard stubble and
a man-bun wiped his wire-rimmed glasses clean with his shirttail. “But why the
fuck does he have to be so blatant about it?”
“All of
my friends have had him.” The petite redhead who pulled in a six figure wife
bonus smiled slowly, and the flash of her green eyes suggested that she was the
cat and he was the delicious cream. “But I’m the only one of us to enjoy a
second helping.”
“All
your friends?”
“How
much pussy?”
“At
least half the women here tonight. Maybe more.”
“Man,
don’t even ask that. Just trust me. Dallas Sykes is the King of Fuck. You and
me? Mere mortals like us can’t even compare.”
J.
Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly,
Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy
novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
JK
has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a "flair for
dialogue and eccentric characterizations" and by RT Bookclub for having
"cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the
women who swopn for him." A four time finalist for Romance Writers of
America's prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in
the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her
Stark Trilogy).
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